Ouroboros Record ~Circus of Oubeniel~

With winter footsteps approaching, the Expeditionary Army triumphed to Brosenne, the king's capital.

The United Kingdom of Zanktogaren, a neighbor who invaded the land of the kingdom in despicable surprise. The army of his country was shot away in reverse, not even defeating one count in the southeast, and was taken prisoner of all the remaining troops, he said.

This battle also led to a setback in the initial stages of the enemy's strategy. The two countries promptly entered into negotiations for reconciliation.

It is a glorious victory for the kingdom of Arquel, which is five hundred years older than its founding.

The whole country sprang back to this newspaper. Somehow the opponent was forced to lick a bitter cup fifty years ago, Xanctogallen. It is an easy victory to devastate it in battle and pull the opponent out of his seat at the conference in less than a month. The festivities continue to be as festive as the days in the Wang capital, and the nobles and the people are intoxicated by victory without distinction.

But only the mansion was left out of the hustle and bustle around it.

An aristocratic hall with a dying lord within. It is the residence of the Marquis of Lavalle.

"Marquis. Looks like the army is back."

Says the ni monk, who stands beside the hospital bed and takes good care of him. The old man who received the word finally opened his mouth after being silent to chew its meaning for a while while while lying on the sleeping table.

"... um"

Skinny and fading, the fading complexion is as white as a wax. The gloomy expression and the ambiguous eye colour deepen the wrinkles carved on the face and make its shade appear darker. The words of the answer were also short, and there was a clear lack of previous clear sounds from the voice.

That is what the Marquis Georges Henri Lavalle looks like today.

"... before winter, are you back"

"Yes. Congratulations. It sounds like a big victory for your allies."

The woman tried to speak up brightly, as if to revitalize the old man.

But in the words the old man ironically distorts his mouth. In his plot, that expeditionary army was supposed to fight another enemy besides Zanktogaren.

Turius Shrounan Ovenil, Earl of Voldan. A man who was scheduled to be robbed of territory by the Zanktogaren army, or who was supposed to be robbed of the scandal this one prepared for. Understanding that it would still be safe now, Lavalle bites her dry lips hard.

"... have you cut through?"

"Yes, yes. This country has survived the war. Thanks to the efforts of the Marquis."

"... hehe"

To an unmeshing conversation of intentions, the laughter leaked.

This unknown mistress knows neither that Lavalle planned and orchestrated this war, nor that he tried to solemnize his disturbing existence by multiplying it. It's natural goodness, and it's oblivious to the dark circumstances behind it. That would be why he was stuck in such an old demon and hung from poison fangs.

But the last thing that remained beside that Lavalle was such a woman.

Lavalle, who abruptly developed and fell that day, was fortunate in his unhappiness that his intimate opponent was a cleric. Having taken her life by her therapeutic magic, she has managed to connect her life to this day. Anything, he was crying and trying so hard to nurse. Making, she was a woman I didn't think was a conspirator's mistress.

There were a few other mistresses, but when I hear he's in a state of gravity, he shows up trying to dance up and make a legacy. Regardless, there were also a few who split up some of the deposits and shut them up, but still wouldn't shut them up. To my dismay, some old women approached me twenty or thirty years ago bringing up a relationship. I'm really sick of these people. I had no choice, so I decided to ask the shady worker to move. If you want to talk to an old man dying so badly, why don't we just go over there and take it slow?

So, I was organizing a female relationship with her within the black of my eyes, but for some reason, only this woman remained. Samurai to the side without leaving. That's the only demand, he said. This is how I plan to burn my care to the end. No, on the contrary, if you do poorly, you can even hope to push back your approaching life expectancy and heal.

What do you put so far in such an old age? It was also strange as Lavalle himself.

"... do me a favor"

"What is it? What did you say?"

"... handling of war. I want to talk to the Chancellor."

"No, you can't! Still, in such a state of government -"

Didn't I just say what? Yes, I tried to be sarcastic, but it was a hundred million bucks.

Say something else instead.

"... I have a letter for you. Just tell the minister and let him deliver, good..."

Turius defeats Zanktogaren and cuts through this trick. The possibility was naturally assumed in advance. Sometimes I either fell for some reason or had to think about it at my age. That's why I was working on the letter in advance.

Even through this period, a man named Lavalle could not abandon the sex of a schemer.

"... desk, second drawer. Secret secret, the late… Until delivered, do not open the seal…"

I can't keep my voice up. I'm also tired of breathing. Separating words, my consciousness became scattered and I was unable to resume.

Still, I gave you my word. Once again, Lavalle buries her head in the pillow, confirming that the woman is snuggling.

"A little... I'm tired. For a while, rest. If anything happens... wake up, let it..."

"Yes... I understand, Marquis. Then do as you are told."

Send out a woman with a crying look and sleep a lot.

Haruhi's, it was a warm autumn afternoon. Good cheer for the old man to enjoy his nap. I think so, and realize I haven't had that opportunity in a long time.

(I think it's been a stuffing job for the last fifty years...)

What strikes me is a long life of darkness, which has lasted since the defeat of Elpis-Roane.

I thought I had to change my country. I was eager to take the right to do so at first. I even butchered my brothers and got the status of Marquis Head. He organized the nobles and set up a centralist. I have solemnly sanctified many local nobles and just as many of my own opponents. He beaked at the court and manipulated the minister and the prime minister as he wished. To see the opportunity to defeat an abominable enemy country, he killed my will and continued to adopt the reconciliation route. As a result of continuing to occupy the Lord's seat in order to remain in power, he was preceded by his eldest son. Seven years ago, it was a matter of hatred that failed to prevent the assassination of the princes who had lost them. And the youngest, a match for that crazy young man.

All those bloody, dark, disgraceful memories.

The rest of my heart was like a mountain. Zanktogaren is not the kind of opponent who stands downwind in this one fight alone, and he cares about Marlbearer's movements. And most importantly, the biggest worry remained alive and well in the country. You can't die like this.

... Until a while ago, I thought so.

(I want to rest...)

After falling, all that occupies my head.

His heart was weakened, his mind was powerless, his passions faded and things were depressing. The only family I treated in contempt was the minimal sympathy, even in times of danger, and only the woman I just sent out is showing an attitude to accompany me to the end. I miss that just a little bit. It's also a sentiment I've never even had before.

I still think this is old.

(Enough already)

Let's fall asleep in this warm sun.

There are no chillies left untrained or untrained. Life is all there is to know. And he struck the last hand. Then you can be satisfied and relieved.

"... rest"

Tell him that without anyone, and close his eyelids.

The man, who lived in conspiracy for more than half a century, finally slept peacefully.

After a while a woman returns to her room and sees her and weeps.

The man who left me telling you to wake up if anything happened, no matter how much he spoke, it never happened again.

Uncle Langogne was the highest heaven.

The recently reconciled war against Zanktogaren - the victory of my country in the Battle of Voldan. The grand victory earned by Turius Shrounan Ovenil, which was once more sold within the faction. His position was thereby greatly strengthened.

Luck still goes on. Marquis Lavalle, a tumor above his eyes, came back shamelessly to cut the war off. The old monster has finally arrived.

At the earliest possible time, there is no such person as to replace Uncle Langogne with a centralist. All that is bold is the seemingly prudent dweller, such as Meervan. Chamberi said more immediately after Lavalle fell, "Would you like to visit the Marquis together?" and so on had rubbed off blatantly. The others are either more Langogne's parent than they were, or just the elephant that's not enough to take.

In other words, this self is the leader in the king's capital, Brossenne.

Uncle Langogne greeted the man in question with such pride and arrogance.

"Thank you, Uncle Langogne, for the first time. I'm Tullius Ovenil, Earl of Voldan."

A young man who meets lightly, laughing at Nico for the able weather. A man who decorated his first battles with great victory in the battle of Voldan. It is Turius. There is no such thing as a confessor. His martial artist, who cited kung fu, was born in Zanktogaren, an enemy country. Be cute for a victory ceremony. I also remember that the other martial officers were small grains and that no one in the ranks or merits could be ascended to the ranks of the civilian population. I even remember pity for what a sweet house it is.

Aside from that, Langogne was quickly watered down by Turius' first voice in an upbeat mood.

"... I don't think we met for the first time, Uncle Ovenil"

"Is that it? Was it?

The slightest young man said without fear. A grumpy wrinkle engraved like a crack between the brows of Langogne only for a moment.

"I remember seeing each other at a party a few times last year, didn't I? Look, your brother, with your introduction."

After that Linus wedding last fall, this slut had been taken by his brother to several tea parties and gardening parties for the nobles. Rangogne and I should have met at that time. In fact, he remembers the face of Turius, who was spending that time looking bored, and he remembered exchanging greetings.

Does that mean this man forgot? Then, it's totally stupid. It is aristocratic preference to connect faces by socializing. Whether face-to-face or not, Langogne is a high-ranking nobleman named Earl. It's not something you can think of, such as forgetting that you met it.

With a smile on his mouth, Turius slapped his hand slightly as he observed with a heartfelt look down.

"Oh, was that time! No, I'm sorry. This time last year, something really big happened to you, didn't it? So, thank you. I can't seem to recall."

"Ha ha, yes or no! You've been through a lot, too. Then you won't have to, I don't care."

Yeah, with that said, there was an example trial noise, a Wang Du Great Fire, and an assassination attempt on Turius. Then I don't think I can help but forget about the aristocracy once and for all... etc.

For the aristocracy, Conne is rightly the lifeline. It is nothing more than proof of a foolish diagram, such as neglecting a lifeline on the grounds of danger to life. I still have this brother for that brother.

Seems to have worked in the war, but all I'm saying is that I'm just a little bit good at savage places of work. It is a bloody genius, resembling the abominable name of [Slave Killer]. No need to go deep into such a dirty fool. If I only use it, I will try to live in a monastery with my brothers, but is it lucky?

When Langogne makes such a calculation,

"Hey, are you Uncle Ovenil? I have heard rumors. My name is Chamberlain, Count of the Kingdom. After that, please don't hesitate."

Chamberlain, who was stuck in front of me, greets me first, foolishly and politely.

What are you thinking, Rangogne snorted.

Isn't it the testimony of the moment to greet him first? Chamberi is an elderly, large aristocrat, albeit of inferior sexual roots. It is normal not to deal with him from the other side until he bows his head, such as the young creation of the Duke, who has just become twenty.

Turius also had his eyes somewhat rounded on this,

"... Oh, thank you very much for this. I am Count Turius Shrounan Ovenil. Welcome to Uncle Chamberlain."

Immediately, I responded with a grin that seemed to have no contents. Langogne mocks inside as the two hold each other's hands.

(Hmm... a hated bat and a nose picker snake handshake)

I suppose those who were white-eyed by others in the house felt comfortable with each other. Recirculate without thinking deeply that way.

He gracefully turns back his heel and tells the two of them.

"So, shall we come? The rest of your history will be waiting with your neck long."

And he spread his hands and showed his back.

A beautiful white castle behind you - the king's capital, or the royal palace at the heart of the kingdom.

What takes place today in the Royal Castle is an award of merit to the nobility who participated in the Battle of Voldan. Uncle Langogne greeted Turius on purpose, not only with a facial connection for the faction. The main purpose was to guide him up to court for the first time today.

"No, it's still something called the Gate of the Royal Palace that I feel tight about every time I go by! There's no sign that you'll ever get used to seeing me again and again."

"Ha. Well, that's right. Er... when it's this big, you're scared it's going to crush you"

"That and a bunch of spectacular sculptures decorating the front yard! This is the land and the land of the arts, do you not think you deserve to colour our kingdom of Arquelle?

"Yeah, right. I think the statue decorated in the fountain is stunning."

"Oops, be careful going through the reception hall. If that big chandelier sucks! Rumor has it that if the lower ones accidentally caught their eyes, they could be crushed by the glare."

"Oh, really? I'll be careful."

The purpose was to guide you, though.

I didn't really react well to Rangogne's introduction. When Thurius, he repeated raw replies like a child who showed no interest in toys, sometimes even leaking a sigh of sigh.

(What a disrespectful man...)

Behind a graceful grin, one more step reinforces my disdain for this young man.

How can we remain indifferent to the representation of the kingdom's authority, the sight of the symbolic palace of royal rule? I thought it was a rural aristocratic, wild sensibility, but it's not. Turning to water for occasional specialties and works of art can unexpectedly give an accurate response. I didn't see any sense in art.

So what's wrong with this untouched?

... You must have no respect for the royal family for the rest of your life.

I do even have contempt for Langogne and for the man who is the lord of this magnificent palace - King Charles VIII. Epilepsy in the habit of dim hegemony, cowardly but rude to the crisis. There's no way a king like that can afford to dress like that. But we cannot deny even the noble lineage that flows to the royal family. The pinnacle of blue blood, the very legitimacy of domination. Aristocrats, respect for it should be thoroughly retained. A glimpse of the royal palace landscape, the embodiment of its history, should give rise to thoughts that correct nature and the collar?

This man doesn't have it. As a nobleman, consciousness is out of the question.

Langogne made that decision.

(Well, good. If it is such a trick, it is not a waste to cut it off when it is used)

With that in mind, I will guide you through the royal palace.

There was a time between the beginning of the ceremony, so to the best of Rangogne's knowledge, he took around the permissible compartment of entry. The ceiling painting hall at the hands of an artist invited by Omnia is a stunning flowerbed in the north garden… As a variant, he also chilled the outhouse from afar, built as a residence for the king's concubine - which is not currently in place.

"... is Uncle Langogne a person who likes these things?

"Ha ha ha...... Wow, you're not the bad guy. There's a little bit of naivety."

Occasionally, Turius and Chamberlain at the back are disturbed to discuss something in a whisper. I don't want to get along with the shame of their aristocracy, but I don't feel good about being hidden from myself.

Gohon, and leak one cough.

"Mm-hmm. You've spent a lot of time... so it's time to head to the refrain?

"Oh, Uncle Langogne. Before I do, I'd like to talk to you about one thing."

I just happen to remember something muddled about what Turius said.

Assuming that he was ahead of us, and showed generosity in adding him to the faction's last seat, what is consultation? Before heading between that and refraining, that would be a secret story that no other nobleman would want to know. I don't want to go that deep into this guy.

"That's it! Uncle Langogne is known among the young for his eloquence and depth of nostalgia. I don't know what's bothering you, Uncle Ovenil, but I'm sure you can lend me some good wisdom."

Before I refused, I proceeded to speak in the direction Chamberlain would take at will.

But, well, having the eyes of this batman means that the faction's ears are also heard through his mouth. With that in mind, it is awkward for Rangogne, the tenant who preached the acceptance of Turius, to refuse to consult him. I wanted to be excused from having a reputation like someone else somewhere.

"... even if it is of course. Say anything."

"Thank you, Count. So I'm here to talk to you about managing your territory."

The story of Turius was that, scratching and saying, there were not enough inhabitants because of the damage caused by the war. It has been damaged by the invasion of Zanktogaren, bringing out the war dead from soldiers recruited in the Battle of Kravikür, and lacking a population in the territory. As it stands, there will be obstacles to management.

... It's not what I found out. Whatever Turius-like suffers, it wasn't something Langogne would know. Ning Lo, in the future, he's the one who trumps the moment he's out of value for use. Weakening is where we want it. What I want Rangogne is the head count and military power of the Dordolan Border Bells and other middle-doing nobles. Turius or something like a chestnut shell if you ask me. I reluctantly put it in my hands to get what I want, and eventually it is something I should smack into.

but i'm not in a situation where i can make those thoughts look overt right now. This man bent his umbilical and disappointed the totalitarians, "Really, can't you? Then I knew I would rely on the Decentralists" and so forth, when he came to preach the consignment, he is a good disgrace. For a while now, I wanted to keep you here.

I said, I don't have the kind of good wisdom Chamberlain says otherwise.

"Uhm, that's hard... people, etc. are not something that can increase that much. Not to mention the movement between territories."

The only way to quickly increase the number of Voldan inhabitants is through immigration. But for a nobleman, a resident is a financial resource to take taxes. There will be no nobility to cooperate honestly and provide the people for immigration. Not to mention that centralists are dominated by court nobles with scarce territory. The fact that the territory is narrow means that the inhabitants are also scarce. Who seems to be able to get it out, isn't that about that Lavalle or the Chamberlain who has turned from the Decentralists?

"Really? Is it difficult? Yeah, well... what do you think of Uncle Chamberlain?

"What, it's me here? Oh, yeah. Immigrants, immigrants... To be honest with you, there's no way you can handle it. You'll need something to name it."

"It's a name. Ah... I hope there's something named. names that other nobles would have to send forth their people."

"Right. I wonder if that's about the conscription in war. I've already reconciled."

"- That's it!

Langogne, who got a flash, was accidentally raising his voice.

Turius and Chamberlain blink at the sudden shout, but Rangogne explains his own proposal to them, regardless.

"Yes, conscription. We should gather the people in the name of conscription and send them to Vordan, where they can work as peasants. It is a well-known fact that Voldan's troop strength is decreasing, and it is also natural that its filling is urgently needed for defence purposes. I can't complain to anybody about this, can I?

"I mean... is it a guy called Tunda Soldier? Ha ha, that's a good idea"

"Nanriri. The boulder is Uncle Langonne, isn't it, Uncle Ovenil?"

Foolish diagrams who didn't even think of this are frequently raising their voices of admiration. Langogne continues as he hears it comfortably.

This plan still has a way to go.

"And it is up to the local nobility to give the soldier away. Uncle Ovnir fought for himself in this Voldan battle, and our totalitarians broke bones to reinforce him. Now let me help you with your other history."

That way you can handle Voldan without hurting the totalitarian nostalgia, and even shred the power of the decentralists to a stone and two birds. It is truly a proposal.

"" Oooh... "

The only way I can hear Rangogne's opinions is for the two abalones to breathe out like they're all in one place and out of their minds. Today is our first meeting, but it's literally a strange thing to breathe in. Does the kind call for friends?

(Huh, did you see that? There are no monsters like Lavalle, but there are those who can give wisdom. There's nothing else, this me)

I boast so silently as I immerse myself in a sense of superiority.

Maeban did not cut Lavalle for fear of the absence of the wise, and seems to have held back that return again, but is his eyes cloudy? As long as this langogne is alive, the outdated old raccoons are not needed at the earliest. I've been at the top of factions myself. Let's ask him to leave sooner or later.

"So, is that all you're talking about? Then it's time to show your face during the refrain, when you'll be surprised."

"Yeah, yeah. No problem. Now you're relieving my anxiety about my people!

"Even so. At the next meeting, we'll open the door to work in court to get this proposal through."

Langogne stands first and walks as she pulls two goldfish shit up her ass.

He was in a good mood and walked slightly more heavily than usual, he didn't see the sight behind it.

"Ha... a centralist is tough..."

"Ha. It's easier than when Marquis Lavalle was alive.... Sometimes I miss the old days when it was supposed to be tough"

"Even so, Viktor gives troublesome instructions. Go out of your way to get this guy to come up with something from himself."

"It's important to set them up, Uncle Ovenil? Especially when confronted with proud and meticulous people like this one."

"Uncle Chamberlain...... thank you for your cooperation. Apparently, I misunderstood you."

"I'm such a craving little guy as rumored. It's just that I know a lot of the world that I am."

The two behind you, whispering and feeling each other like that, etc.

Brosenne Royal Palace, between the thrones.

A red carpet embroidered in gold thread from the entrance had shaped a brilliant corridor that stretched across the vast hall to the deepest seat of supremacy. Line up on either side of it, the nobles of the hundreds of literary martial arts, to be called the centre of the kingdom of Arquel. They align their heels in unison, and stand neatly on carpets that are allowed only to be treaded by the king and his lord, or by those who have the king's permission, so that they do not put their toes on in the breadth.

At the entrance wall the band lined up and played a serene tune over and over. Their music is naturally scratched like thunder as the king enters. The musicians waited for the moment and plugged into several repetitions today.

Eventually one man walked in on a red carpet over the entrance. I'm not a king. There is no way that a man who fears but stands at the apex of this kingdom will appear without us.

His name is the Duke of Rochebourg. A person who ascended to the rank of Prime Minister of the Kingdom and was allowed to name only one generation the principality title that would otherwise be given only to those who draw the blood of the royal family. But there is no one on this occasion with feelings of respect or awe in his face against him, who should also be said to be the priority of national politics. This person was given the seat of the apex of the ministry because of the hand-wound death of the predecessor Marquis Lavalle, who passed away yesterday. The fact that the contemporary prime minister was now a puppet of the late old marquis is a well-known fact for a nobleman such as to ascend to the royal palace.

Lord Rochebourg was walking arrogantly with his chest stretched through the chilling gaze of the crowd. But what about the inner part of it? Lavalle, his greatest asylum, is already dead. If so, the time has come for me to cut up the court with my talent, but how much can I do to a man who has only ever danced to the claps of an old man? It was really interesting for Uncle Langogne, who was sitting in a row and looking into the eyes of observation.

(Hmm, the puppet... give me something good to cry about soon)

After Lavalle's death, it is Langogne who occupies the head of the centralist. Temporarily worshipped the posterior dust in the return bloom of Lavalle, but it is only natural for him to inherit the faction with that foresight, beyond what he had reckoned Turius had done in the Battle of Voldan. If so, it is imperative to push the Langogne back in order to stick to the Chancellor's chair.

That means no tone until today, do you want to finally cut the thread put on by the totalitarians and dance yourself out? is there also a new threaded operator? Either way, it means this prime minister is unnecessary for Langogne.

Old blood needs to be replaced soon.

List a prime minister candidate in your head that's convenient to you - naturally, the head of it is yourself - and then watch as the prime minister moves forward. Eventually Rochebourg retreats to the side of the floor to the throne and receives the parchment with respect from the ceremonial officer.

And I inhaled deeply, and I stood up.

"Come, Your Majesty Charles VIII, ruler of Arquel, land and land of art by the grace of God, ruler by law and order, defender of the Four Duty Rights and Authorities of the Hordes, guardian of faith, doctrine and the Church!

At the same time, the music increases in intensity as if to emphasize the king's prestige. The voice of Rochebourg pounding into the hall with a loss to its volume.

How dare you read your mouth so loudly, and unexpectedly. Unexpectedly impresses me. They must be buying this art and doing the prime minister.

I was greeted by such a massive flood of sounds, and no, I could see King Charles VIII diving through the entrance, supported by Minister Miyauchi.

For the incoming king, the queues kneel from the side of the entrance. Over its head, he hoisted the tip of Grave, which was also in the hands of a kneeling funeral soldier. It is a courtesy to show the will of those who show disrespect or rebellion in front of you. But whenever the sound of the spear pattern sounded, it was not the nobles who knelt, but the king who should be protected by the soldiers. His Majesty's cowardice and paranoia now seem to be alive and well.

Langogne sends his gaze to the row at the entrance with Chirali before the order in which he kneels comes. Turius was a young man who had just been replaced and, in addition, the Ovenil family's qualifications were lower than those of the other Counts. Naturally, this ceremony is addressed close to the last seat.

That man, wouldn't he do something extra or not do what he should? That's what worried Langonne. This is the sunny stage of the King's reign. If you see an array of faults in a place like that, you can turn around and be like yourself. For once, between refraining, I taught him how to chew and include, but it's about the steep field. I don't think he's smart enough to be an asshole. If I was worried and could buy it safely, I wanted to worry about as much as I could.

Did prayer make sense, Turius was on his knees, guarding the ceremony without jeopardy. I would not have done anything else odd because I have not seen any upset or ridicule in the lords. For one thing, stroke your chest down.

Eventually, when all the row attendants, including Langogne, knelt, Charles VIII ascended the floor to the throne in a blunt-smelling motion. Light as a cloud to say heavily, sinking pace to say mildly. I had no choice but to call it a blunt smell.

(You are a king with no change of heart and no loyalty)

The king bows down to the throne dauntlessly, knowing or not that he is being evaluated with a cold smile.

The Chancellor also goes up to the dance floor halfway up the stairs, leaning aside and standing outside the red carpet. And stretching out the parchment marked according to the ceremony, I raise the example loud.

"Beyond this, His Majesty's jade sounds were delivered in praise of the triumph of the previously reconciled Battle of Voldan! Your Lords are magically deaf, but good!

After such a forethought, the Victory Ceremony and Arbitrage Award finally began.

The proceeding of the ceremony is generally as follows:

First, retreat the spear that the dauntless soldiers were sticking out simultaneously, stand up and take a step back. At the same time, the row attendants stand simultaneously. Standing position at this time is desirable about two steps away from the carpet.

And when one hears the king's mournful congratulations be said, it is at last the real thing.

It is the beginning of the Arbitrage Award, which will determine the prize and punishment of the nobles.

The Chancellor calls the names of the row attendants.

"Leonard Christophe Dordran, the kingdom's frontier uncle!

"Ha!

If they call me by first name, I will respond promptly and take a step forward. Just one step. Putting your foot on the carpet will not be permitted until the king has his permission.

"Chi... get close!

This is the first time I've heard from you that I've been able to sink my shoes into my red hairy feet.

but here is one exception case. If the Prime Minister calls you by your name, but you cannot speak from the King. This is the carriage by which the person commits some sort of malfunction and is punished. The guilty are not entitled to follow the path leading to the throne. That's what I mean.

That's what it might seem like to hear. This ceremony is a prestigious award for the Battle of Voldan, settled in just under two weeks. If so, I wonder if any of the row attendants have produced an imitation that would punish them.

But this is also the place where the prize and punishment are now determined by the King's authority. If so, it is not convenient to eliminate nobility. If it's war, at a glance, you can't grasp enough gold, supplies, and humans to move. You will scratch and completely consume your possession by clinging to it and ringing a lazy nonsense, or finding it guilty of embezzlement or embezzlement. Also, if you don't, you won't get enough grace awards.

Let's get back to it. This time it was the Dordolan Borderline Uncle who was called by his name. He said that in this war he helped the commander-in-chief of the first line as an advisor, sometimes wielding his own extraction and gaining great success in repelling the Zanktogaren army. He would be a special medal with no complaints. Naturally, you get the right to be summoned to the king and approached to the throne.

That's how I gratefully advance to the front of the floor, kneeling again.

"In this battle, Your Majesty acknowledges that your intellectual courage and struggle have been successful and that your work has contributed greatly to victory. So this is the prize..."

The words of the Chancellor flow again.

After this the king,

"Do you have any hope?

and ask the questions below.

In contrast, I honestly want that one. Don't tell me you want this. The rewards that are given on these occasions are often arranged at the stage of organizing them according to the ceremony. If unexpected wishes are inadvertently expressed, progress may be delayed.

Therefore,

"No, there isn't. All at His Majesty's will."

The questioned subordinate had made it his modus operandi to put a no in this way. First, the minister takes the form of buying the satisfaction and joy of the king by demonstrating his abnegation and loyalty. Having done so, the king gives a predetermined reward to his heart, letting him receive it, and lowering it.

This is the sequence of flows.

The ceremony proceeded unharmed. Many nobles are called by name, summoned nearby to receive rewards, or reprimanded and punished while kept far from the throne. Langogne is, of course, the former. I joined the army line that left King's Capital and was only asked to end the battle before I arrived, but it is true that I served. The King is obliged to reward his actions with a bonus because he has given his strength and loyalty to the army. Without grace, there will be no public service. It is the iron rule of the feudal system.

And also the name of a certain person is called.

"Elisha Rosmond Barbastle, Kingsguard Knight!

"Ha!

of a young woman whose ears echoed when she was used to the voices of the men. Besides, Langogne's eyebrows are slightly flaunted.

Called by name was a little girl with the title of Commander of the Second Knights of Kingsguard. It's someone I don't like. I come from the Marquis of Barbastol, a decentralized faction that is a political enemy. In the midst of a big and small commotion, a woman became a knight and set up a separate house, escaping from her parents' house. Like that ovenil, he was one of those fools who disturbed the order and sequence of the aristocratic society.

In the war, they brag that they fought a demon who broke in during the battle, but what a vampire the demon was, and raised the effect of frown saliva to ask. They are also officially recognized, and the king has sent them to you, and the Chancellor has also read out his kung fu, but how is it actually? It was Langogne's idea that, for the most part, it must have been served to foil Kingsguard.

"Hey, do you have any hopes?

"There isn't. As His Majesty wills."

That being said, I lay my eyes strictly down and show an attitude of accepting the sacrament. Only when I was growing up was I a lady worthy of a noble blood muscle.

"So, I'll reward you from the rest, and I'll take"

In response to the words of Charles VIII, the ceremonial officer walks out of the way and gives a new parchment to the Chancellor.

"Sa, Prime Minister! What else, or on my behalf! Reading out my intentions...

"Ha. I accept you in awe."

Lord Rochebourg greets the throne and then walks to Elisha, who keeps kneeling.

The dwellers leaked a whirlpool. On these occasions, it is Alquelle's practice to simply make the inventory read and heard about the contents of the reward. When you give something, send an angel later to receive it. Only if the Chancellor is given extra honors, such as approaching him no matter what.

Elisha the boulder also seemed surprised, raising her face, which should have been lying down.

"Lord Barbastol, I am more afraid than this to read and receive His Majesty's praise. Therefore, correct your posture with the intention and listen."

"Yes... if you'll excuse me"

So Elisha lay down her face again, and Roshbour made her read it.

"The reason His Majesty King Charles VIII felt that he wanted to be in these achievements, his valiant battle in this battle and the crusade of blasphemous traitors and vampires against the Church as a threat not only to the kingdom but to all mankind. Therefore, I recommend Elisha Rosmond Barbastle, the Knight of the Kingdom... to the Church of the Holy King and be appointed by the Holy Knight!

An intangible shock ran through the throne room.

Holy Knight. A knight in the knight, who guards the Sacred King's religion and doctrine. It is considered the greatest honor as a knight to be entrusted to this. That would be an unprecedented tsubaki, such as the appointment of a weak crown twenty-four year old woman. Seeing, the majority of the row seats are gazing at each other and whispering something to each other. It was not something that was believed.

But at the same time, I think. Anyway, as a knight, it is a testament to the highest praise. It would not be strange for the Prime Minister to offer a prize in a face-to-face fashion.

"This will be a letter of appointment and a permit to travel to Omnia to pursue his studies as a holy knight. Take it."

"... Ha! I truly bestow an unwanted honor, and I feel tight!

Elisha reached overhead with her palms poked at one knee and received the letter with respect.

Langogne wasn't funny. Though a Kingsguard knight with deep connections to the Totalitarians, that woman is the daughter of a decentralized aristocrat, to say the least. I hear to Omake that her second knighthood brings together knights who, to make meritocracy good, cannot even be described as crude and lacking in character. It's the end of the world, like the Holy Knight, the leader of those people.

... but I refrained from any event that really seemed to be the end of the world after this.

"Count of the Kingdom, Turius Shrounan Ovenil. Huh!

"Yes."

At the end of the ceremony, at the time of decorating the tri, and more so, the name of this man was called. In the Argument Award, the market has determined that the last recipient of the prize is the biggest special medal in that battle. If so, it is an obscenity, but it serves no other purpose than this man.

Because he is the commander-in-chief who defeated the Zanktogaren Army by 40,000 while still being disadvantaged in numbers. Even though I don't like it, rewarding it will leave a bad precedent.

"Chi, come closer..."

"Ha ha."

Turius' toe is placed on an honorable red carpet. It was like being impersonated with dirt by gold. If that man were to step on the red floor, the spilled blood accumulation of the murdered slave would be more suited to the aftermath.

Nevertheless, he says that he moves slowly and without tension, he says that he kneels softly and without precipitation, and even though it is a natural thing, he really cares. At first glance, there's nothing wrong with it, but it makes you feel uncomfortable and uncomfortable like you got a small bone stung in your throat.

Langogne thought a little about the reason and eventually realized it.

(Too nervous)

Turius' indifference to the royal family to the point of heterogeneity, I felt when I was guiding the royal palace. That's what I remember.

If normal, a king is the greatest authority in this country. With Langogne, who knows how that pitiful reality is, some tension will arise if we actually move forward. A better education than childhood makes the old man, who is righteous on the throne in front of him, aware of him as an immortal being.

Turius doesn't have it. I'm out front because they called me in, and I'm taking a decision because they're telling me to. It was like that.

(Uncle Ovenil... don't you have a sense that you are relative to the king?

The man is not in awe of the king or the prime minister. It is an affront to Charles VIII and Lord Rochebourg, which is not the case. Both kings and nobles felt like they were looking at civilians and slaves alike. It seems that there is no interest in the very system that governs this identity society. The way such a human being could hang his head against the throne only looked like a hobby clown play.

Finish it quickly, I think. Turius Ovenil itself is a tool that should be disposed of quickly once the decentralists have been cleaned up. That's not what I want to see, such as wandering around without even knowing it.

While doing so, the ceremony progresses. I urge Lord Rochebourg to read out the battle merit of Turius, to praise him in a liturgical tone, and finally to give him the word from the King. Later he interacted with this in a stereotype and was punished by reading out the inventory of rewards so that it flowed.

"Something... of, do you have a muscle of hope?

Lower questions from the King repeated many times during this ceremony.

If Turius answers this in the same way as everyone else, the end of the ceremony is right there, if you say so in His Majesty's honor.

Even so,

"Yes, I must ask Your Majesty."

This man said something abruptly that would smash the flow.

"... what,?

A voice, like the color of Charles VIII's emotions, falls out, between the thrones. It was an accidentally leaky whining voice. Even though it wasn't big enough, it also sounded like a row attendant, which means that the hall is so quiet.

The row attendants uniformly had their eyes round and their gaze nailed to the throne.

What Turius did is outrageous. It is on form that the king asks me for a wish, but here I say, "I have no wish. Receive what the King wants to give", a scene where you have to make an itchy statement of intent. No matter what you think inside, it is. That is the liturgy and tradition of this country.

The unjust offering of a wish there is an ancient and now unparalleled horizontal breaking.

The pernicious point of this act lies in the fact that in form the question is settled. On the occasion of the praise and reward of the special medal under his ministry, the king hears the wish and the questioned minister states it. What happens if the king fails to fulfill that wish more than this form can be made?

The King's authority hurts greatly. Being a master but unable to live up to the loyalty of his subordinates, thus not valuing the loyalty that risked his life... that's how he gets treated.

It is also with the aim of preventing this kind of situation that all this form of questioning is incorporated into the ceremonial liturgy. Setting the contents of the reward in advance, His Highness indicates his willingness to entrust the contents of the reward to the King, who lowers what was prepared. Because this is unlikely to scratch authority.

That you ignored this… I mean, Turius didn't know what to do with the King's authority, etc. It is no match for the king of the day, and it is equal to proclaiming so in the sight of the nobles of the full throne.

(Bullshit, stupid wow!? I've taught you how to answer this question many times. Ugh!? All you have to do is say no and leave it to His Majesty! Why can't you do that, huh?

Langogne swallows the fury of holding her mouth down and coming up to her throat. I almost offended the lethargy of shouting out loud in the ceremonial setting. I was so shocked.

Because it was Langogne who coached the man who had made the ceremony right in front of him. If Tullius behaves insanely, it means that the Langogne he taught him is also insane.

In fact, several participants are coming in a gaze that they condemn toward us. Those who would have watched him teach the ceremonial liturgy to Arre during the refrain. What the hell were you teaching, those eyes pointing cold at you?

After some time like sitting on a needle, King Charles VIII opens his mouth with a relaxed expression.

"... okay. Tell me what you want."

On purpose, a twist ran between the thrones. It would have been deeper than when Turius had spoken of the tremendous disturbance.

Because they know that King Charles VIII is the most foolish king to perform a shape-shaped liturgy. Last year and elsewhere, in an emergency of Wangdu Great Fire, it's as dark as throwing out a response with a stiff of "Don't Know". That's what I can't believe, dealing with this horizontal tear without putting it on the table, no fury or agitation.

Behold, Turius, who is the culprit of the matter, hath turned his eyes round unto an unexpected reply?

"... Huh?

"Hey, what? I have a wish, oh, do I have one? What's wrong with you?

"Ha ha... I know you're being disrespectful, so I thought I'd buy your anger."

To the words, Langogne builds a blue muscle to the temples.

(Bu, do you understand disrespect?!?

I mean, I did it with a good understanding of what they were telling me not to do. I've never talked about making such a fool of people.

"It would be more disrespectful to make the rest wait!? O, O, the rest are kings! The king's, and the question! Answer me quickly! Or is the saying that you have a wish, yes, false!?

After all, Charles VIII was Charles VIII. Am I in a hurry for a long ritual, or did I use up my patience today in an earlier response, I wake up eclampsia in my neglect and call it out.

In the margin, Lord Rochebourg stood before Turius and urged him.

"Uncle Ovenil. As His Majesty wills."

"… then I ask His Majesty the King"

That said, Turius changes his posture. From the previous knee-poking knee prayer, poke with both knees in alignment, bowing and palms to the floor again.

It is flat.

And I spoke for the king.

"Have mercy on the people of Voldan, Your Majesty"

"Mercy?

"Yes.... My realm has been hit by this scourge of war and is deeply hurt. Let's count 10,000 soldiers' war dead alone. And how many lives were scattered if we combined the people in the barbaric hands of the Zanktogaren soldiers..."

Cut the words once, face up.

"- Beyond acknowledging your minister's warfare, let His Majesty also know that?

What a provocative dialogue. Recognize your battle results, honor and even reward you at these ceremonies. So you have a good idea of how many victims have been in this war, too? Turius' words are carefully decorated at the top, but the same is true of what he said. If you look at it, Charles VIII is slipping off the throne and grabbing his elbow desperately. I guess I got a lot of shock. It must be incredible, even if there are people who speak these words toward the king of the kingdom of Arquel.

As you can see, Lord Rochebourg's cough sounds.

"I'm lending His Majesty your precious time, so no foreclosure is necessary. Tell them to go straight in. … What exactly is the mercy that you desire to bestow upon your Majesty?

Turius' answer was single entry as requested.

"Tax Exemption to the State of Voldan"

"Oh my..."

The Chancellor roared.

It is a demanding request. Not to impose taxes on the King on the State of Voldan means that we cannot even take taxes from Turius, who occupies the land. In other words, this man openly refused to pay taxes to the kingdom.

And this demand is troublesome in terms of tax exemption in the name of the king. The tax that is now exempt is taken only in the name of paying it to the state. I am untouched in delivering to my lord. Also, otherwise the lord would lose his source of income and become a wingman on the way. Because the necessary expenses for various businesses and support for ministers come out of the budget, which is based on tax revenues.

In short, you take taxes from people and live, while you pay nothing to the country.

(Have you revealed your true nature, you regional crocodile! More so, here......!

Langogne also hoisted her eyebrows.

I'm willing to dedicate myself to the region, fatten my private stomach, and then pay taxes. What are you going to do? To the habit of rubbing off on totalitarians as soon as the contested Lavalle disappeared, trying to go against that policy.

"The calamity suffered by Voldan is not limited to more than 10,000 war dead. The fields are burned, the well water is poisoned, and those who survive are moaning at the wounds of war. I want to offer them a little mercy that they still suffer."

"Have mercy on the people...? Is that... what you want?

"With all due respect, Your Majesty. As I said earlier, in addition to your recognition of your minister's warfare, I know that you know the battle for your life that they have sacrificed - no, the people of Voldan showed you. Rewarding them is the desire of a minister who has forcefully sacrificed to them."

And it is this clever word. This is only for the people, so the king will have mercy on the people. It is good deed. I am sure the people will also thank the king and rejoice in tears. And renew your loyalty to the kingdom. So we should definitely…… etc., and have a big name for it.

"Uncle Ovenil"

The Chancellor pinches his mouth.

"Is that all you want?

"Yes, that's all the minister wants."

"Are you saying no other prizes are needed?

"In exchange, if you can thicken your grace to the people,"

"... how long is the tax exemption due?

"Deadline, is it?

"Dear Left, I know that the Voldanese people are gasping for the pain of paint. It's a winning battle. It is also not a good time to think about tax breaks. but how long is that? I don't want you to take taxes from Vordan permanently, etc."

The Prime Minister's words are natural. It is not the earliest land in the Kingdom of Arquel, such as an area which does not oblige the Kingdom to pay taxes. It's another independent country. Something like that is not exactly a right given to the Count. It is about the Duke who is forgiven. If so, naturally, this tax exemption requires a deadline.

Now, what is the length of that deadline? It is common practice to announce tax breaks for that year as a boon to victory, but Turius's demands are tax exemptions until he redeems a boon to himself. Naturally, I'm not going to keep it in a year or two. Daitang, win a tax exemption for a period spanning ten years and twenty years, during which time you accumulate your wealth in full. That would definitely be the purpose.

How many years will it require? Langogne, no, he as well as the other row seaters stare at Turius so still that the hole seems empty. The length of time he mouths is the thickness of the skin on that man's face as it is.

(Uhm...... it'll take ten years to rebuild Vordan and get the black out. If you're going to earn money commensurate with that, the reasonable demand is fifteen years. Twenty years if you scratch greed. Don't tell me you don't want to pay taxes for thirty years?

Fifteen to twenty years. That's what I thought. His predictions were betrayed.

However, in the opposite direction.

"Then I would like tax exemption for the next five years"

"" Oops......!?

Somewhere in the hall, someone leaks a groan. That's more than one at the same time.

- Too short.

That was the thought they had in common. In five years, instead of using the privilege of tax exemption to fatten his private belly, the period ends in the middle of reconstruction. Anyway, it's even more than half of the required ten years, as Rangogne estimated.

"Mmmm... but if it's Uncle Ovenil's arm -"

Yes, it is Chamberlain who whines in his mouth. This man has long been interested in the face of Turius as an interior politician. Because I know the track record of quickly regenerating Marlan County, a remote area that should also be called a disgrace in the state of Voldan, during the Viscountry.

Rangogne hears Chamberlain talking to herself, and this is it, I intuit.

(I get it, you lunatic! That's what you think if you're smart enough to make a profit for a short time!? Then around you, I impress you with mercy and abnegation… I can see that's what you're up to!

Thoughts, contempt for its shallow heart. I wonder what kind of ugliness it would be to care about someone else's eyes but also to devour profits. Not at all, as a person, I don't want this to happen. He distorted his mouth thinking so, his breath roaring.

but

"- Uhm... but I don't care what you think..."

Once again, the leaked Chamberlain solitaire pokes no at that prediction.

Five years is still impossible, no matter how many rigid owners have excelled in home affairs and civil affairs. Firstly, in Langonne's own prediction, he had calculated ten years to rebuild Voldan and five more years to make a profit, combined with fifteen years. If that were five years, the period would be one-third of what it would take to make a profit. That would not make Turius profitable unless he was a competent superman by the silly smell of being three times the arm of a normal lord.

Then why do you ask for such a period?

I guess Lord Rochebourg thought so, too. Continue to ask Turius further.

"It's a little short."

"I have some confidence in the hands of the people. Let's get Vordan back to normal tax revenue in five years."

"Then it doesn't seem to be in your interest?

"It is in the interest of the minister to give quiet and prosperity to the traditional land of the Ovenil family fathers, given by the kingdom. I ask you, Your Majesty, and the Chancellor, to bow down and give me your help as a reward."

(What is this disgusting beauty phrase?

Langogne felt her face sink as she listened. Turius' demands, word for word, do not seem to him to know Turius. Then reason and fame are assembled neatly. The discomfort was so uncomfortable.

Do you want a tax exemption period to reclaim your territory, thinking of your people? You want me to do something about it in five years? Do you mind if I take my interests personally for granted?

Who the hell is this guy?

There is no reason for people who can say such things from the bottom of their hearts to be hated for being [slave killers] but [man-eater snakes]. I don't think that's the word of a Phantom colored by all those bloody rumors.

There's always something behind it. But I didn't know what was behind it. Still, the claim isn't broken, and it's more than not a no-good story for the kingdom.

"… Your Majesty"

"Ugh, um..."

The king and the prime minister seemed to have nothing to accept.

"Gee, let me hear the jade and take it! Hear, hear, hear!

"Ha ha."

"And his loyalty, and benevolence, and sincere sunshine. Yu, so, just like you wanted, ho, take the reward!... The State of Voldan will be exempt from taxation over the next five years! We're going to rehabilitate the same state, and, uh, let's get it up to speed!

"... thankful happiness. I have bestowed His Majesty's mercy and gratitude upon him to exhort him sharply for the good of Vordan."

"Uh-huh."

Langogne gazes. For a moment, it looked like Turius laughed. It's not surprising to see a grin because the claim was accepted, but something is different. I feel another inclusion, but I don't see that.

The answer to that question was Chamberlain, who was whining earlier.

"It's going to be a big deal, Uncle Langogne"

"What is it? Uncle Chamberlain."

You said, "Encourage me sharply for Voldan."

"So what? Uncle Ovenil has to do his best not to disobey you, but that's..."

"We're not human resources. Didn't you consult on territorial regeneration from that Uncle Ovenil?"

I couldn't help but raise my voice.

It is. Before the ceremony began, Langogne had been consulted by Turius, as he guided the royal palace. That the war disaster is reducing the population of Vordan. He wants to do something about this. Langogne replies to that: He said we should recruit people from decentralized territory in the name of conscription and send them to Vordan.

Regardless, now that I'm angry at this insane behavior, I'm not going to help you with that. I am thinking of purchasing the sin of my incompetence and undermining my folk power with my own hands alone.

But it is the king's will to go there.

Earlier conversations between Turius and Charles VIII gave the meaning of the phrase "exhilarate, exhort," a prize for tax exemption to the State of Voldan.

"That's not just a reward, it desperately hopes to encourage the state to rebuild, right?

and Turius Expanded Interpretation. So I checked to see if I was wrong, and the king who was told

"Um, it is"

and approved. It came in that shape. I would not have intended that for a king, but if someone insisted that, a flow could not be denied that it was true. Conversations where there should be no other love are exchanged in what is termed a merit award ceremony. This has made it a fait accompli that Voldan reconstruction is what the king wants. In an attempt to check again later, Voldan is part of the kingdom, the land that the king gave it in the form of deposits with the Ovenil family. If the land, which is nominally my property, wants it to be rebuilt or not, I am determined to say yes. I can't overshadow you later.

Now, no matter how much the Langonese individual has had to put up with Turius' behavior, there is no reason to talk about it earlier. If the king asks us to rebuild his land, as a centralist, we must move for the regeneration of Vordan. Even as a big deal, being silent while knowing the measures that would contribute to reconstruction made me sick. At the very least, Rangogne has been obliged to open his plans to his fellow factions.

In any case, the centralists are a faction that promotes policies to control the province in the name of supporting the king's rule. In imitating here against the royal life, the great name of the faction itself disappears.

Still, if I kept my mouth shut, I could have done without the fact that I had been consulted.

"But this is a big job. After five years of reconstruction, Uncle Ovenil will not be able to make it unless he throws up quite enough money."

This Chamberlain speaks then.

Bats caught in greed and devouring small profits look intrigued by the projects involved in the reconstruction of Voldan. Naturally, to eat this for your own benefit. And it's common sense that eating is better with nutrition. If so, there is no reason not to ride an example measure that can make Voldan fat without using his wallet. If Rangogne doesn't say so, Chamberlain himself will suggest it, even like his own proposal, and take it until it comes true.

If that's how you don't like Chamberlain depriving you of your credit, you just have to say it yourself.

I felt like my bowels were boiling back. With this insane behavior, a madman who crushed his own face and made him scratch his shame for teaching him his liturgy to the ceremony. We have to support people like that. And until the decentralists are solemnly cleared, they must be used.

The voice of the Chancellor, Lord Rochebourg, echoes with a margin of langogne that strangles his teeth.

"But Uncle Ovenil. Such a breakdown is only exceptional. Expect to behave in accordance with common sense when you have the next opportunity.... you can understand what I'm saying?

"Ha! I sincerely apologize for expressing my desire and making noise on my collar."

"Great. Then thank Your Majesty for his mercy and grace."

Really, they're both fine men just to say things with their mouths.

But that concludes this noisy ceremony of celebrations and prizes. Later it ends with the king lowering that shameless, the Chancellor making closing remarks, and dropping off the King who is leaving. Langogne wanted to go home early and rest. Even the whiskey leaned away and wiped out the melancholy with alcohol, and I wanted to stay asleep. I'm so tired, I don't even feel like dealing with a woman all day.

... No, a woman should refrain from doing so for a while as well as this evening. When Lavalle visited him before his death, he pointed out that he had been in close contact with Omnia's Nishi monks, but he is somewhat under the lustrous circumstances of Langogne himself. Also, I have already admitted in the suicide note that backwards (") would be required ("). "Originally, the cause of that old man's fall should have been a big problem, but that's why nobody gives it to him. Because if we light a fire poorly, we can also jump on our side.

Rangogne desperately remembers to finish early, even as she remembers her heartburn again in an unpleasant way that she remembers.

But...

"… to this point is a reward for your warfare."

"Huh?"

There was no sign of Charles VIII lowering Turius, and Lord Rochebourg, on the contrary, had retained him without saying anything.

The venue squirms again. Don't lower the person who made you take the reward and offer something else. It is a procedure that has never been heard of before in ancient and present ceremonies.

No way, it's my turn to punish disrespect because I did the reward for my accomplishments. It is the mountains that want it to happen, but Turius has just been obliged to "exhort sharply to rebuild Voldan". If you ruin it shortly afterwards, that's what undermines the king's authority.

If so, what happens next? The row attendants watched in solitary spit.

"Then I will reward you with that humility of yours"

"The... Your Eminence? I can't read the story...?

That thick-faced, shameless man can't hide his confusion in this accomplishment, either. The loving laughter was attracting me.

The confusion is that the same is true of the nobles, starting with Langogne. A reward for modesty, what is. It's unprecedented that such a thing could be given to a subordinate.

The Chancellor doesn't mind continuing.

"The questions you have asked so far are a test to see your qualities. To make sure you're entitled to what you're given."

"Me, no, as a minister, it's enough to get a tax exemption..."

"By the way!... Have you noticed?

Are you also listening to the eunuchs of Turius? Lord Rochebourg crosses him pleasantly, not seemingly.

"Our country and the Federal Kingdom of Zanktogaren have now been reconciled with your efforts. At the time of reconciliation, the territory of his country was also ceded, and many of it was given as a grace - but a certain land has not yet been given as a grace to anyone?

"Isn't that... supposed to be His Majesty's heaven? How many minutes does it look like a tough land to handle?"

"Whatever! It's a really troubled land. Therefore, it is not left to the aristocracy to make it heavenly. That's what I initially thought. But..."

The voice of the Chancellor who keeps whispering.

Would this guy have gotten better?

Langogne traces memories...... and remembers. Understand.

"I got a letter the other day from a nobleman. If you're worried about the treatment of the land conceded in the pact, you've got a written offer."

The prime minister of this country is a puppet in the dark. If that's how you dance,

"This is how he wrote to me.... That young man is brilliant in wisdom, the owner of a humble personality who knows to mercy the people and knows that it is enough. Why don't you leave that to him? If you're anxious, I'll give you one prophecy to ease it."

"Hey, no way..."

"- He should turn down the prize and ask for tax exemption for war-torn territories in exchange. That period will be shorter in evidence that it is not out of desire. Probably five to seven years. I'm proud to be able to rebuild my own territory in that time frame. If you're such a person, you don't have a problem... do you?

Then there must be a thread behind it that moves the puppet.

Lord Rochebourg gives a full grin. Fun smile, as if not worthy of a ceremony that should be strict. Give me a crooked smile, like looking down at someone who fits in a trap.

"Your Majesty... please reward this man as arranged!

"Wow, I know!... hey! Turius Shrounan Ovenil! or the wisdom he showed in the battle, his pride in politics to rule his territory, and the love he has just shown, Mm, the abnegation of loyalty and the love of his people -"

"- Now again, we acknowledge the suffrage by the will of our late predecessor, Georges Henri! You give Cognac, eh, more Elpis-Roane states, the honor of being a guardian, and a little, a little, a little!

The throne room quieted back as a loneliness. For a long time only the sound of Charles VIII gasping for air after finishing his long mouth echoes.

Elpis-Roane. The land of contention with the Federal Kingdom of Zanktogaren. It is the name of the land that was lost in the war fifty years ago and regained by the harmony of the next battle.

Give it... to Turius? Did Lavalle say that in his will? You two were supposed to be in conflict? Why, why?

Several questions run through my head with glue. Langogne is not the only one. All the nobles in the venue will be the same.

with that in hindsight, Turius raising his hard voice

"... but with the Count in the Tri-State Takeshi, the Load wins too much"

"Mm, whatever! Then the throne will go upstairs! The Marquis! From today on, you will be listed in the House of the Marquis!

(Stupid!?

In the words of the king, the nobles who participated also became noisy, forgetting the solemnity of the ceremony. Langogne flourished in the boulders, but those around him swallowed their gaze and their words.

"The Ovenil family... going up to the Marquis?

"The history of the kingdom was also listed as aristocratic after half, is there a newcomer?

"No, in the first place - the predecessors are mad and the contemporary ones are arr..."

Naturally, there are no favourable opinions there at all. The few Turius factions, including the Dordolan Borderline Uncle, said, this one was also black-and-white in its sudden accomplishments. Some people stuck with them like that wondering what it was like.

I have the same thoughts as Langogne.

(That madman... the Ovenil family... the family of shame... is pulling me out of the throne?

The Langogne family, who have contributed to the permanent court and have continued to dedicate their loyalty since the founding of the country. How can it be retained in the Count, but only two hundred years old, like an ovenil occupy the status of Marquis?

Earlier generations bought the mockery of the flowing social world in a luxury unsuitable for their length, earlier generations were sent to the monastery in a frenzy, [slave slaughter] in front of the present masters. I didn't expect such a lineage to be positioned above me and above my contemporary ancestors. It's very unforgivable. Earlier liturgical disregard was enough for my bowels to boil, but only this time, I was about to die of anger by spraying blood from my eyes and ears.

The man is still working for a white slate as Langogne gets bored with hatred and jealousy.

"Your Majesty... the minister has just bestowed his countenance this fall. Besides, I was busy and even before I came up to thank you. Marquis without putting it between them is a few -"

"Oh, my God! It's... it's... It's... it's...... Yes, objections are unacceptable. It's the king's house! You shut up, and I'll gladly take it!

"Yes, exactly as His Majesty said.... humility is a virtue, but something that sounds disgusting if it passes. In the future, you will finally be careful what you say.... Hey, Marquis Ovenil?

"- Ha. Jade sounds, I only gave them to you. It's a thoughtful tightening of oneself with great responsibility. … you will never forget this royal grace"

With Turius's back kneeling on the throne, Rangogne stared so hatefully that the hole seemed empty.

- You betrayed me.

- You tricked me.

- Shut up about this me, you were working with Lavalle in the back.

From this series of currents, he firmly believes so. It all just seems like a preventive line or something, too, to be humbled and put in no, as it is now.

Lavalle's deductions, and his attempts to see the qualities, are all lies. Because there's no way we can predict such a sudden situation. From the very beginning, both the mouth and the tsuji were combined to hit a monkey play in front of the throne. To let Turius inherit the garment bowl as the successor of Lavalle, the chief of the centralist.

(Don't you do it, Lavalle...... Ovenil......!!

Why did Turius, who was at odds with the centralists so much, come in friendly contact with his own clinic? To take over the faction from within. And the fact that Lavalle held it back so much must also be a fiction of the ever opposing plays. Perhaps sweep Rangogne and others to tranquilize factions within the faction, and temporarily Turius takes the helm of the totalitarians. And after a while, you will give that seat to Lavalle's grandson in anticipation of the time.

After the death of that old man, his grandson, who took up the status of Marquis de la Valle, is still weak. It will use Turius as a connection until it grows and cuts. The price for cooperation is an increase and a marquis. That would be too much. In the unlikely event that Turius seems to betray him, he leaves his grandchildren to expose that this matter has conspired to win a prize for grace. Turius is alive, but Lavalle is dead. If exposed, only the living will be unilaterally tried and lost mechanisms.

That's how he bought his successor's position and relief. Everything is like Lavalle is going to do. It means that that grandfather was a conspirator until he died. And Turius gets on with it, and thus gets a huge increase and an extra place in himself. Is it the Lorges who made the connection? That's Lavalle's child over there, and at the same time, even letting him serve a common son to Turius...

The inexplicable course of action that followed earlier was such a mechanism - Rangogne was convinced (●).

Back off.

"Ha..."

Turius turns his heel back and returns to the line. The gaze of every human gathered between the thrones chases that figure.

Confusion, hatred, jealousy, contempt.

All that's put in there are emotions like this that are significantly lacking in positive elements.

The expression of the new Marquis Turius Ovenil, who accepts them, is a masked faceless expression with his mouth tied. Many nobles found there a thick face that seemed to rise and reinforced their contempt even further.

With this unblessed birth, the ceremony closed.

Yes. Without being blessed by anyone.